


To the Victor Go the Spoils

by RosalindInPants



Category: The Great Library Series - Rachel Caine
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, BDSM, Bath Sex, Belts, Biting, Caning, Chess, Cock & Ball Torture, Erectile Dysfunction, Group Sex, Handcuffs, M/M, Niccolo Santi creates erotic art, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn with Feelings, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Public Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Spanking, switch Santi, switch Wolfe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-01-24 13:31:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18572494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosalindInPants/pseuds/RosalindInPants
Summary: Wolfe and Santi have a special rule when they play chess: the winner gets to dominate the loser.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wolfe challenges Santi to a chess game with their usual rules: the winner gets to dominate the loser. Set during Ink and Bone, a few days after the Great Handcuff Training Incident.

The chessboard was set. Black and white marble pieces on tiles of matching stone, all set in a dark wood base with a velvet-lined drawer to hold the pieces. A Christmas gift from Nic the year they'd moved in together, given with the reasoning that they now had room enough for a nice one to replace the battered old wooden set they'd been using since they met. So many years later, he still loved the solid weight of the pieces, the way they warmed in his hand as he held them, pondering a move. Just touching them brought back memories of chess games played with Nic, and of more intimate games played after.

Those intimate games were what Wolfe was hoping for. Nic had been teasing him all week, first with meaningful glances and words that might be taken more than one way, then with more overt gestures. A hand lingering on his wrist. A kiss that turned to a bite. It had reached its peak two days before, when they'd tested Jess Brightwell's capacity to use Library restraints. It had been all Wolfe could do to keep a straight face after overhearing - and he had certainly been meant to overhear - Nic tell Brightwell that he was in the habit of biting. It had been a real challenge to maintain a professional disposition when confronted with the sight of Nic's bound hands after  _that_  remark. And then Nic had suggested that Wolfe ought to take a turn wearing the cuffs, and, well, it was most fortunate that the exercise called for both Nic and their student to depart immediately. Some thoughts were simply not appropriate to even entertain in a professional setting.

Those thoughts had been running around in Wolfe's mind ever since, an alluring distraction from the unpleasant business of the past two days. There had been too many other concerns that day and the day that followed to propose a game of chess. But today? Today was a day off for him, and Nic needed only to briefly stop by the barracks in the morning. That left plenty of time for chess and all that came with it.

With everything prepared, Wolfe took a seat at the table, drawing his crimson silk robe tighter around himself before picking up the Blank he had loaded with a book of poetry. There had been a time when he would have let the robe hang open to entice Nic, but that was when his body was still an enticing thing. Keeping the robe closed let him preserve the illusion that there was still something worth seeing under it. He settled his glasses on his face, then opened the book and paged through until he found something suitably erotic. While he read, he absently picked up the set of cuffs he'd left on the table and slipped his hand through, imagining how it would feel to have Nic tighten them around his wrists. Unlike the tight and hard Library restraints Nic had worn for their test with Brightwell, these were Wolfe's own design: soft black leather lined with even softer black rabbit fur, adorned with golden buckles that nicely matched Nic's uniform. The brush of that fur against the sensitive skin of his wrist was enough to make him half hard. The sight of them around Nic's wrists would have the same effect.

At the sound of the door opening, he froze for a second before he recognized the man who stepped through as Niccolo Santi. He made a mental note to ask Nic to do more desensitization exercises with him later. Not now, now he wanted to forget the panic and get on with their chess game, but soon, before his instinctive response to that door opening could become more of a problem.

While Nic took off his weapons and boots, Wolfe sat back in his chair, dangling the leather cuffs from one finger and pretending to be engrossed in his reading. It was good cover to get his breathing under control again. He waited until Nic came over to the table, then looked up from his book, and couldn't help smiling as he asked, "Can I interest you in a game of chess, my love?"

Nic took a seat across the table and turned the board so that he had white. "Usual rules of engagement?" he asked. He'd kept his uniform on. He knew how good he looked in it. Knew how much Wolfe enjoyed taking orders from him while he wore it. How much Wolfe enjoyed making him kneel while he wore it.

Wolfe nodded and held up the cuffs. "Loser wears these."

Nic eyed the cuffs and licked his lips. "Agreed."

The first move always took the longest. Wolfe could see the calculations of strategy play out on his lover's face as Nic sat, leaning just slightly forward over the board, his hands folded on the edge of the table. Wolfe took the opportunity to pour them each a glass of wine. The pinot noir had a pleasantly dark color and strong notes of cherry in the aroma, a perfect accompaniment to a romantic afternoon. He'd just taken his first sip, savoring the complex mixture of sweet fruit and bitter tannin on his tongue, when Nic moved his king pawn forward two spaces in a quick, decisive motion.

Wolfe put his glass down and turned his attention to the board. The pawn was a trap; Nic would leave it sitting there, waiting to be taken while his other pieces lined up to capture the piece that took it. The question was whether Wolfe could turn walking into that trap to his own benefit. Well, that was the entire point of this exercise, wasn't it? He moved his own pawn up to meet it, putting it right in position to be captured. Nic's response would be revealing.

For several more moves, they set up their traps, tested each other's resolve. The knights came out. More pawns advanced toward their inevitable doom. Nic brought a bishop forward into the range of Wolfe's knight, but also in a direct line from his own queen. Wolfe decided he preferred walking into a trap with lower stakes, and made the first capture of the game, taking one of Nic's pawns with one of his.

That set off a quick succession of captures: two more of Nic's pawns for him, two of his for Nic. And then, in a move Wolfe had recognized as a possibility but not anticipated as likely, Nic took a knight. Having thought it the least likely of his partner's possible moves, Wolfe had no countermove prepared. 

And Nic clearly knew it. He added the knight to his collection of pawns and sat back with a smug smile. "Something wrong, my genius Scholar?"

Quite the opposite, really. There were few things more thrilling than seeing Nic's brilliant strategic mind at work. He wasn't about to admit that, though. "Not at all," he said, smiling as he slid a pawn forward in a seemingly random move meant to draw Nic out. "Just thinking about how, after I win, I'm going to take that belt of yours and give you a good, hard smack for every piece of mine you've taken." It was a lovely mental image. He'd have Nic on his knees for it, he thought, strip him to the waist and cuff his hands behind his neck, then take the belt to those beautifully muscled shoulders.

"Hmmm, are you? Too bad you won't be winning." Nic ignored the pawn and moved a knight, leaving what looked like a clear path to his king. A trap, of course, but one Wolfe could appreciate the cunning of. Nic's right hand strayed down to his waist, ran over the buckle of his uniform belt. "You're going to be the one feeling this belt."

Suddenly, it was hard to focus on the game. Such open promises of pain from his lover had been rare since Wolfe's release from prison. He'd deeply missed this part of their lives, and hearing Nic offer it again both soothed and excited. Nic thought he was strong enough to take a beating. A knot of nervousness Wolfe hadn't even recognized in himself loosened, even as his pulse quickened and his cock hardened. He could almost feel the sharp bite of the belt.

And he would be feeling it if he kept playing this badly. Half-distracted, he'd moved the rook he'd planned to save for castling, failed to fully account for all the lines Nic's knight and bishop could follow. It cost him his other knight, two more pawns, and a check, though he managed to take the bishop and another pawn in retaliation. That opened a path to put Nic's king in check, and he seized the chance, sacrificing another two pawns to get his queen into place, backed up by a rook and a bishop.

He picked up his glass and took a sip of wine while Nic tried to think his way out of the trap, nearly choked on it when he saw the smile spread across his lover's face. He swallowed quickly and took a mocking tone to say, "So pleased to be losing, my dear?"

"Hardly," Nic said, still smiling. He picked up his knight, held it over the board for a drawn-out moment, then brought it down to exchange with Wolfe's queen. A risky move, it left his own queen vulnerable to Wolfe's rook, and his king only one move from being in check again, but as Wolfe mentally mapped out the paths their pieces could now take, he saw more ways for white to prevail than black. Nic had done an impressive job of outplaying him. "What am I going to do with you once I get those cuffs on you," Nic mused, reaching for his glass.

Wolfe could think of quite a few things, none of them conducive to devising a winning strategy. He had to take a moment to pretend to consider the board while he sipped more wine and firmly placed the image of Nic's bound wrists at the forefront of his mind. Only after he was sure his head was in the right place did he pick up his rook and move it to take Nic's queen. It was the wrong move. He quickly lost not only the rook, which he had expected to sacrifice, but also a bishop he'd had to leave in danger to take the queen and avoid a threat to his own king. Deprived of so many powerful pieces, he found himself on the defensive, his remaining rook and bishop occupied with his king's safety, his remaining pawns unable to find their way across the board. He could almost hear the snap of leather with each piece that fell, and Nic, though he kept his expression neutral, kept running his thumb over his belt.

One move at a time, Nic's pieces herded Wolfe's king toward the corner until there was nowhere left to go. They both knew the game was over three moves before the checkmate, but they still played those moves, Wolfe downing the rest of his wine as he offered his rook up in a final, futile sacrifice before the white pieces surrounded his king. Nic stood as soon as his promoted pawn came to rest in its final position, started making his way around the table. Wolfe picked up his defeated king and slithered to the floor in a way that he suspected was more alluring in his mind than in reality. Kneeling before his beloved, he held the piece out with both hands in surrender. He looked up to meet Nic's eyes, as he knew Nic liked.

"Terms of surrender, Scholar?" Nic asked, his voice deliciously stern, reaching down to take the king. The words sent a shiver of anticipation through Wolfe's body, and he saw the concern flash across Nic's face at that. Shivering could never be a purely good sign for them again.

He gave a quick smile to reassure his lover. "You have my complete surrender, my dear Captain," he said, sliding effortlessly into the role. He let his empty hands fall to his sides, giving Nic a clear view of the growing erection lifting the robe between his legs. "I am yours to command."

Nic set the king down on the table alongside the other discarded chess pieces, picked up the cuffs. He ran a hand over Wolfe's hair. "Good," he said. "Now, take off that robe. I want to see my prize."

He obeyed without thinking, his hands moving quickly to untie the sash of his robe, then pull it from his shoulders, letting it flutter to the floor around him. But even as Nic's appreciative gaze swept over him, he felt his cock softening, the usual anxieties pushing to the front of his mind. "Not much of a prize, I'm afraid," he muttered, looking down at his hands, now folded in his lap to cover his failing cock.

The hand in Wolfe's hair closed in a tight grip, holding him in position as Nic dropped down to one knee and leaned in for a fierce and bruising kiss. He met his lover's aggression with his own, drawing Nic's tongue into his mouth only to bite down on it hard enough to draw a gasp and make Nic's hand yank on his hair, pulling his head back and their mouths apart.

Nic's mouth moved to Wolfe's ear, gave a quick bite before he whispered, "Such impertinence will be punished." He kissed and bit his way down Wolfe's neck to sink his teeth into the sensitive spot at the hollow of Wolfe's throat, his grip still tight on Wolfe's hair. It was the perfect sort of pain, deep and sharp and possessive. It would leave a mark, the bruised imprint of Nic's teeth proof that he was Nic's, and Nic his. The thought, as much as the sensation, drew an enthusiastic moan. The pain sharpened until the moan turned to a whine and his cock started to harden again, then Nic's teeth relaxed their grip and his tongue ran gently over the marks he'd left. "Hands behind your back, dear Scholar," he whispered, his breath hot against Wolfe's neck.

His hands shook a little as he moved them into position, wrists crossed at the small of his back. Good shaking, eager anticipation, but he willed them to be still as Nic let go of his hair and came around behind him, hands tracing their way down from his shoulders to his wrists. He was already doubting himself enough, didn't need Nic to doubt him as well.

Gently, Nic's fingers traced Wolfe's left wrist, following the edges of his gold library bracelet. He bent to kiss the line where gold met skin, then slipped the first cuff into place over the bracelet, tightening it until it fit snugly without putting too much pressure on the gold band. He checked the fit, then took hold of Wolfe's right wrist and kissed the ring of skin scarred by iron cuffs during his imprisonment before putting on the far more comfortable leather cuff. The cuffs had been one of the greatest and quickest successes of the desensitization exercises he'd had Nic put him through, though it had been the one Nic was most resistant to attempting. Only a few sessions, and he'd started getting erections instead of panicking, much to their mutual delight. Gods only knew what quirk of his broken and reassembled mind had allowed him to enjoy being restrained again so quickly, but he was grateful for it. His trauma had stolen enough other pleasures from them. Still, Nic worked slowly and cautiously, checking and rechecking the restraints while rubbing Wolfe's arms and shoulders and kissing the back of his neck.

When Nic had finished fussing with the cuffs, he wrapped his arms around Wolfe and spoke, low and commanding, in his ear, "You are mine now, my prize to be enjoyed, and I intend to spend the rest of the day enjoying you. I expect you to behave. You will do as you are told. You may not come without permission. You may speak at will, and I expect to hear you loud and clear when you are enjoying yourself, but you are not to speak negatively of the prize that I have worked so hard to win. Is that understood?"

Mostly their usual orders, but the addition of not speaking negatively about himself was an interesting one, Wolfe thought, even as he responded with a respectful, "Yes, Captain." Nic certainly spent enough time trying to talk him out of his accurate assessments of his own scarred body, but this represented a new level of effort on Nic's part. Something to think about, though less urgent than his now fully erect cock. Ironic that being directly told he wouldn't be getting satisfaction any time soon made it stand at attention.

Nic gave him one last kiss on the back of the neck, then stood and came around to his front again. Wolfe kept his eyes down, but he could hear the sound of the belt sliding through belt loops, and his heart raced. The buckle jingled as Nic folded the belt in half, preparing to strike.

The belt came down on his shoulder in a brisk snap, not quite pain, but enough to get his attention. He braced for another blow, but the next touch of the belt was gentle, stiff leather under his chin nudging his face up until he was looking right at the indulgent smile on his partner's face.

"That's better. Eyes on me, my lovely Scholar. I want to see your face."

He met Nic's eyes, mossy green in the bright daylight streaming in around the edges of the curtains and the equally bright glows, saw the devious spark in them as the belt withdrew from beneath his chin, swung again, and came down on his opposite shoulder hard enough to make him yelp.

"That was for your poor attitude and disrespect. You have another ten coming for the pieces you captured. But first," Nic grinned as he set the belt down on the table and reached for the top button of his trousers, "I have need of your mouth. Do a good job and maybe I'll reward you."

As if he needed any motivation to suck Nic's cock. Leaning forward as far as he dared with his balance thrown off by his bound wrists, he nuzzled the hand still working on the buttons. A finger came within reach, and he pulled it into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it until Nic grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head back.

"Patience, dear Scholar. Do you really want this so badly?" He freed his erection from his clothing and rubbed it against Wolfe's cheek, holding him firmly by the hair to keep him from turning toward it.

"Yes, I do. Captain, please." He let his words come out in a pathetically whiny tone that usually would have shamed him. There was something particularly arousing about using Nic's title when begging. Especially when he was naked on his knees while Nic stood fully dressed. "Please, my dear Captain, let me have a taste of you."

Nic took pity on him and loosened his grasp, allowing Wolfe free access to his cock. Tempting as it was to take the full length of it right away, Wolfe went instead for his lover's balls, languorously drawing his tongue over them while he listened to Nic's quickening breaths. He could tease, too. One at a time, he drew them into his mouth, sucking lightly, waiting for Nic's next move. It wasn't long before Nic's hand tightened on his hair again to pull his head back until the head of his cock rested against his lips. "More for you to taste here."

Wolfe opened his mouth just enough to let his tongue flick out against the sensitive spot on the underside of the head. He started to draw just the tip in, and that was all the invitation Nic needed. With a growl, he thrust the remaining length of his shaft into Wolfe's mouth, pushing into his throat. Caught between the hand in his hair and the cock in his mouth, there was nothing to do but give himself over to Nic's control. Letting his head be directed by the hand in his hair, gave his full attention to the calculations of his lover's pleasure. The timing of breaths such that air and cock each got their turn in his throat. The volume and frequency of moans to encourage Nic in his aggression. The patterns his tongue could trace over sensitive skin. There were spots that Nic particularly liked, and if he could put the right amount of pressure on those spots, with the right timing, the right direction of movement... so intent was his focus that he forgot about his bound hands until they yanked against the cuffs as he attempted to bring them up to grab Nic's ass and slip a finger in to stroke his prostate. The challenge posed by that restriction sent a thrill through him, inspired him to redouble the efforts of his tongue.

He knew he had succeeded in those efforts when Nic's free hand clamped down on his shoulder and Nic let out a low moan of pleasure. Nic's grip on his hair relaxed, but he kept his head and tongue moving for a few seconds longer while he swallowed, prolonging the moment. Nic gently stroked his hair, and once he'd caught his breath, he murmured in Italian, "Good, very good, my love. Well done." With his lover's softening cock still in his mouth and the taste of him on his tongue, Wolfe could imagine no higher praise. He'd gone soft again himself, but he was so satisfied with having pleased Nic that it seemed only a minor nuisance.

They both took a short time to recover, Wolfe snuggled against his partner's legs and enjoying the feel of fingers in his hair, before Nic said, his tone once again commanding, "You have earned yourself a reward, Scholar, and I think you're in the right mindset for your punishment now. Which would you like to have first?" He'd switched back to Greek, to Wolfe's disappointment.

Such a choice. Strategist that he was, Nic had manipulated the outcome such that Wolfe could have neither reward nor punishment without the nagging thought of the other in his mind, and Wolfe loved him for it. Wolfe's first instinct was to ask for the punishment first, some good, harsh pleasure to get him hard again and ready for whatever Nic had planned for him next. But Nic hadn't said what the reward would be, and Wolfe found the lack of knowledge irritating. Curiosity won out, as it usually did. "I'll take my reward now, my dear Captain," he said, looking up as he spoke to see the satisfaction on his lover's face.

Satisfaction that turned to a truly cunning grin. "Very well. Up on your feet."

There had been a time, as recently as a few years ago, when he could have sprung easily up from his knees without the use of his hands. It was a more laborious process now, hampered by joints that grew stiff too quickly, though still possible. While Wolfe was getting to his feet, Nic took a pillow from one of the chairs and cleared enough room on the table to set it down there. Wolfe's eyes went wide when he saw it there, with the chessboard pushed to the side and the wine removed to a nearby shelf. He had such fond memories of being posed on that table. Nic walking around him, gently guiding him into position, tucking hair behind his ear, adjusting restraints if they were using them, fixing clothing if he was wearing any. Holding himself perfectly still while Nic sat down in his favorite chair with pencils and paper, and seeing himself recreated on the page through the filter of Nic's adoration. When he glanced up at the ceiling, he could still see the steel rings set into it that they had used to fasten ropes to when Nic was feeling especially creative.

Nic hadn't asked him to pose restrained like this since... well, since  _before_. To be fair, he had been a terrible, fidgeting model each time Nic had drawn him clothed since his return home, and the one time Nic had asked to draw him nude, he hadn't reacted well.

But he was apparently forgiven now for that outburst. Nic met his eyes, still grinning. Patted the pillow. "Come on, my beautiful Scholar. I want you where I can see you. Don't worry, you'll get your reward when I have you where I want you."

Wolfe bit back the sarcastic remark that came to mind at being called beautiful. Orders were orders, and while he enjoyed pushing boundaries, neither of them particularly enjoyed outright disobedience. He let Nic boost him up onto the table and guide him into position on his knees on the pillow, facing toward the chessboard. The belt waited coiled around the board, but he felt no fear at the sight of it, only yearning. It was the position itself that made him uneasy, the sense of exposure, of being put on display.

Nic gave him an appraising look, and somehow seemed satisfied with what he saw. "That will do." He went to the shelf to pour a glass of wine and brought it over along with a sketchpad and a slim box of pencils. Leaving the art supplies on his chair, he came to stand beside the table and brought the glass to Wolfe's lips, allowing him to drink. "Your reward, my dear," he said, trailing a hand down Wolfe's chest, "There's still another glass left. You may ask for it whenever you like."

"You would interrupt the creation of your masterpiece to bring me a drink?" Wolfe asked between sips, his breath hitching when the hand came down to his still soft cock, "You're in a generous mood today, my dear Captain."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Nic said, idly playing with the cock in his hand, as if he didn't even notice that it was failing to harden at his touch. He leaned in to give Wolfe a quick bite on the ear, then whispered, "I have yet to decide if I'm going to let you come."

That got a twitch of interest from his cock, though the stubborn thing refused to get properly erect. He took a deep gulp of the wine, trying to concentrate on the feeling of Nic's hand rubbing him. The most gorgeous man in Alexandria was touching his cock, and he damn well ought to be enjoying it more. It felt good. He liked it. It wasn't enough to overcome the anxiety that was making his hands start to shake. The curtains were closed, the door locked, and he knew Nic would never share the result of this artistic endeavor, but still he felt as if his scarred, ruined body was laid bare for all to see. Worse, for Nic to see. For all that Nic insisted the scars did not matter, Wolfe suspected that his lover was deluding himself. When Nic looked, really looked, through the eyes of an artist, he would see the hideousness of them. He would be able to place this new drawing side by side with his old ones and see the muscles that had failed to return to their former shape, the skin that fit strangely over too-visible bones, and the scars. All of the scars.

"Chris? All right?" The sound of his name, spoken gently, shook him from the downward spiral of his thoughts. Nic was looking at him, worry pressing his lips together. He left off his futile attention to Wolfe's cock and put down the glass of wine to check the restraints, both hands feeling for signs of discomfort or lost circulation.

He was such a mess that he'd made Nic step out of his commanding role. That wouldn't do. He needed his fucked-up brain to shut up before he ruined things for both of them. "I'm fine, my love," he said, putting a quick kiss on his lover's prickly cheek. "Just a bit deep in my head. I remain yours to command."

"Need any changes?" Nic asked while he massaged Wolfe's arms. "Should we skip the belt, the drawing...?"

The very idea of skipping the belt was absurd. He'd been the one to goad Nic into using it in the first place; left to his own devices, Nic rarely opted for such crude and direct methods of punishment. Wolfe could certainly do without the drawing, but that wouldn't be fair to Nic. His paranoid insecurity would just have to go fuck itself. "No changes needed, Captain," he said, taking a suitably respectful tone. "I am ready for my punishment."

The change in Nic as he settled back into his role was visible. He stood straighter, and his expression hardened for a moment, then broke into a sadistic grin as he reached for the belt. "Well, then, I think we've delayed enough." He folded the belt again and lightly trailed the folded end down Wolfe's back. "Now, where shall I do this? Back, ass, legs... what do you think, dear Scholar?"

It could be a concession to the weakness he'd just shown. It could be a trap. Gods, he hoped it was a trap. Still, he answered honestly. "If you're giving me the choice, I would prefer my back, please."

"Hmm." Nic came around behind him and placed a hand on the back of his neck. "I will keep that in mind. Behave yourself and I may let you have a few strokes there." Nic's hand pushed him firmly forward. "Down now. I want that ass in the air. It's going to be beautiful when I turn it red."

He would never tire of being asked what he wanted only to have it withheld; denial intensified pleasure to a truly impressive degree. Pulse pounding, particularly in his groin, Wolfe allowed his lover to push him down until his cheek rested against the chessboard and his rear end hovered in the air in a most undignified manner. His sense of exposure and vulnerability remained, but the certainty that punishment would be coming refocused those feelings on how excellent of a target his ass had become, how helpless he would be to escape the belt. Just the way he liked it.

Nic brushed back the hair that had fallen into Wolfe's face. "Good. Be still now, Scholar." One at a time, Nic lined up the ten white chess pieces that Wolfe had captured at the edge of the board. He took his time about it, giving his orders as he arranged the pieces in order of value from pawns to queen. "You will receive ten blows, one for each piece you took from me. You will keep count. Lose count, and we will begin over again. You will remain in position. Move, and we will begin over again. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Captain." He was getting hard again from hearing that stern tone in Nic's voice, knowing he would make good on his threats. He'd taken three times the number of blows he was supposed to count on one very enjoyable night some years ago. He'd given Nic even more a few times when their roles were reversed.

With everything in position, Nic trailed a hand down Wolfe's spine until he reached his tailbone, sending shivers of pleasure through his nerves. From there, Nic's hand moved over his ass, lightly at first, then rubbing more firmly. A little ritual of teasing and preparation to draw Wolfe's focus out of his mind and into his body. An affirmation of love and trust that he needed more than he would like to admit.

The hand lifted, and came back down to rest on Wolfe's bound wrists, holding him securely. The belt buckle jingled. Wolfe remembered, somehow, to let out the breath he was holding.

Impact came with a loud snap and a blooming of sensation across his skin. Not quite hard enough to really hurt, but strong enough to dominate his thoughts and force him to draw in a sharp breath. In the past, it would have been enough to draw a whimper from him at least, if not something louder, but such vocalizations no longer came as naturally to him as they once had. Silence was not an easy habit to overcome. "One," he said, mildly surprised when his voice came out calm.

Nic nudged the first pawn in the line onto its side. "Good. Nine more to go."

The second blow came harder and to the left, far enough below the first not to overlap. He breathed through it, counted it, watched the pawn fall, and waited for the next.

The third came harder still, on the right, so low that the belt nearly touched his thigh. Getting toward the proper level of intensity. He put a little groan into his "three," to encourage Nic.

And then the fourth landed, perfect, across the same place the first had hit, and he did not have to force the moan that it drew from him. The sensation lingered, wonderfully stinging, as he counted it, and had not yet faded when the belt struck for the fifth time.

Only the count kept him anchored through the remaining five blows, the count and the hope that if he obeyed, he might get to feel this delicious sensation on his back, too. He might otherwise have lost himself in the pain that brought cries to his lips and tears to his eyes. Nic brought him closer to the edge of his endurance with each snap of the belt, quieting his mind and its insistent anxieties with the demands of his body for attention. His ass truly hurt by the time he counted "ten" and watched Nic tip the white queen, a hurt that carried into his cock, leaving him harder than he had been in weeks and hungry for more.

Nic set the belt down to lightly rub the sore and sensitive skin where it had struck. "You've done so very well, my dear," he said, leaning in for a soft kiss on the cheek. "Would you like more?" His hand moved up Wolfe's back to circle his shoulder blades. "Here, perhaps?"

"Yes," Wolfe said, the word feeling clumsy in his mouth, "Yes, please, more."

"No need to keep count this time," Nic said as he took up the belt again and shifted his position, moving around so that he could keep one hand on Wolfe's cuffed wrists while having a good angle to hit his upper back. "You need only relax and enjoy yourself, my dear Scholar."

It was an order Wolfe was more than happy to obey. He let go of the last of his thoughts as the belt began to swing, surrendering to both Nic and his own body, floating on the feeling that radiated out from each point of impact.

Wolfe considered his vocabulary to be extensive even for a Scholar, but he had no word for this feeling. Pain, yes, but pain was too broad a term. Having become so intimately acquainted with pain in its many forms, he was not quite comfortable lumping this sensation in with all the others that could be so labeled. Pleasure seemed both inaccurate and insufficient. This feeling danced the line between the two, and it transcended them both. This was fire, it was pressure, it was lightning racing along every nerve and warmth that sank deep into each muscle. It was love hammered into his skin that would ache for days so that he could not forget it. And it was so very, truly Nic: the careful application of his strength, the depth of his trust and respect, the fierce possessiveness of his devotion, and the tenderness that came at the end of it all.

It felt like both an instant and an eternity had passed when the belt clattered to the floor, and Nic pulled him upright, one hand tugging on his wrists while the other held his shoulder, into his arms. He'd shed his uniform jacket and shirt, and the touch of his bare chest to Wolfe's freshly beaten back brought a whole new wave of both pleasure and pain that made him sigh and shiver. Gently, Nic wiped the tears from Wolfe's cheeks with one long finger while his lips left a trail of kisses along his neck.

"You're being good," Nic said, soft and sweet in Italian with his lips close to Wolfe's ear. "So very good. You made the most beautiful sounds for me, my love. You look so beautiful with my marks on your skin." He let one hand slide down over Wolfe's chest to his fully erect cock. "Keep being so good for me, my beloved Scholar, and I'll let you come. Would you like that?"

"Please." That was as much as he could say with Nic's fingertips tracing along his shaft. Sensitive as he was in his current state, he feared he was already dangerously close to the forbidden climax.

Nic shifted his hand down to cup Wolfe's balls. Unsatisfying. No matter how aroused Wolfe was, he needed more direct stimulation to finish the job. As Nic well knew. "Patience, my dear," he said as Wolfe whined in frustration, "First, I want to draw this lovely prize of mine. If you stay nice and still, you'll get more of this." He ran his thumb over the top of Wolfe's cock. "Can I get you some wine before I begin?"

Words had deserted Wolfe, but he managed a nod. He would take anything Nic offered right now, do anything Nic asked of him. He tried to keep himself still, but Nic repeated the stroke of his thumb before letting go, and Wolfe heard himself groan as his hips rose to chase his lover's hand, driving his shoulders back into Nic's chest.

"No," Nic said, putting firm hands on Wolfe's shoulders to steady him. "I need you to be still. Can you do that for me?" A note of concern crept into his voice, discordant with his commanding tone.

"Yes." The answer came without thought. Nic asked it, so he could do it. With Nic's hands guiding him, he found the strength to kneel, his legs slightly parted, both to improve his balance and to allow Nic easy access to his cock. He got an exquisite burst of pain when his thoroughly beaten ass settled onto his heels. Oh, he was going to feel this for a while. Gods willing, the burning in his back would stay with him as well; it was such a relief from the itching and irritation that flared up so often in his scars. He was starting to feel the ache in his arms and shoulders, too, from the position they'd been bound in. There were so many nice things to feel that he almost didn't miss Nic's touch when he stepped away to retrieve the wine.  Almost.

Wolfe watched Nic as he refilled the glass, taking in every detail of him. The deep green of his eyes and the blood red of the wine. The ripple of the blue ink of his lion tattoo with every move of his tanned and muscular arm. The radiance of the smile on his face when he turned to bring the full glass back. Wolfe drank half the wine in a few quick gulps, distracted by the feeling of Nic stroking his thighs, the back of his hand just barely brushing his cock.

When Wolfe had drank his fill, Nic put the wine aside and set to work arranging the scene. The chessboard went next to Wolfe with the pieces arranged in their final configuration, all but the two kings. Those, Nic pressed into Wolfe's hands, checking the cuffs while he was there. Nic lined the captured pieces up in front of the board, then glanced up to see Wolfe watching him. "Ah, perfect," he breathed with what sounded like genuine amazement, then, with a smile, switched back to his stern tone to say, "Keep your head right there, my prize. I'll have you in profile, looking down over your shoulder at the board." He reached up to tuck Wolfe's hair back behind his ears, then lightly ran his nails down Wolfe's back, a feeling like a row of burning fuses running over already inflamed skin. "Close your eyes, Scholar, and be still. This is going to be beautiful. Just beautiful."

His hands left, then, and his footsteps retreated. Wolfe could hear the soft slide of the pencil from its box and the rustle of paper. He kept his eyes closed as he'd been ordered, trying to forget Nic's exaggerated expectations about the quality of the image he presented and concentrate on the pain and pleasure still echoing in his body. They would have used a blindfold, before. The sash of Wolfe's robe, perhaps, or some other soft strip of silk to cover his eyes, obscuring the work in progress from him and keeping him focused on the little touches Nic gave while he worked, enhancing his sensitivity even more. Blindfolds had proved impossible since his return home, but closing his eyes was an acceptable substitute. It still brought him deeper into his vulnerability, kept him from knowing where and when Nic would touch him.

There was a long pause while pencil scratched against paper, then he felt Nic come close again. A single finger lightly traced his wrists, and Nic's lips brushed his ear. "When this is done," he whispered, "I think I'll move these around to the front, make you fuck me while I'm holding them. Let's see if you can still make me come with just that cock."

That made a positively delightful mental image. Wolfe suspected that he could do it, too, if he stayed this hard. Nic's prostate had always been sensitive, and while balance and positioning might be a bit of a challenge without the use of his hands, he suspected he could still thrust at the right angles and depths. It would be a challenge, but he liked challenges a great deal. The hardest part might just be to keep himself from coming without permission. Gods, his cock was already dripping just from thinking about it.

Nic noticed, of course. One hand closed around Wolfe's wrists while the other swept over the head of his cock, scooping up the drips of moisture on his first two fingers. "Such a mess you're making, dear Scholar," he said, pressing those fingers to Wolfe's lips. "I expect you to clean up after yourself." Though he was using his strict voice, he sounded pleased beneath that.

Wolfe drew the two fingers into his mouth and licked them clean of the evidence of his excitement. The taste was not so different from Nic's, just a bit more bitter, perhaps. He whined a little when Nic pulled his fingers away.

"I do hope you can keep yourself under control," Nic said as he stepped back to return to his drawing. "This will be so much more enjoyable if you can be good."

The touches were more fleeting after that. A quick pinch of a nipple. A little nibble on his neck. The end of the pencil running along the length of his cock. Between those instants of contact, stretches of nothing but the sound of pencil on paper and his own breathing. It thrilled him at first, just as it used to. He'd always enjoyed the challenge of obeying the order to remain still while Nic had him so vulnerable and hungry for his touch. There was a time when it would have driven him near mad to be left wondering what was taking shape on that sheet of paper, but now he dreaded the moment he was asked to open his eyes and look. For a while the euphoria of sensation and helplessness kept the dread at bay, but bit by bit, it crowded in.

Quite irrationally, he felt a chill each time Nic's hands lifted away, a certainty that each touch would be the last. He felt his breathing growing faster, his pulse racing. Merely arousal, he tried to tell himself, excitement at the promise of sex when the drawing was done, but his cock was softening. He wasn't going to be making Nic come with it. His disgusting scars and malfunctioning cock were on full display, and Nic was going to be repulsed by the sight. Nic was going to leave without a word, leave him there on the table, bound and beaten and completely vulnerable, easy prey to anyone who might take him. Foolish, paranoid thoughts, but he couldn't drive them away.

Nic caressed his cheek, murmuring encouragement Wolfe could hardly hear over the harsh sound of his own breathing. When the warm hand pulled away, Wolfe found himself whimpering, fighting the urge to follow in the direction it had gone.

 _Stop it_ , he told himself.  _Nic is right there. Nic is not leaving. Nic said to behave._ There was something soothing in the sound of his lover's name, so he said it to himself, over and over, to the rhythm of his panting breaths.  _Nic, Nic, Nic,_  "Nic." He didn't even realize he'd said it out loud until he felt Nic's arms wrap around him.

The shame was enough to make him nauseous. He hadn't meant to disrupt Nic's work, especially not by breaking out of his role and using Nic's name. His hands clenched into fists so tight that the two chess pieces he held dug into his palms. "I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't mean-"

"Shhh," Nic interrupted, "Don't lie to me, Chris. I want you to be comfortable. Tell me what you need to be comfortable."

Such soft, gentle words were harder to take than the blows from Nic's belt. Comfortable wasn't a thing Wolfe got to be anymore. Nic should know that. Wolfe sighed. "That doesn't matter. Put me back where you want me and let's finish your masterpiece, my Captain."

Nic stiffened at Wolfe's biting tone, but he didn't move. His chest expanded with a deep breath that hissed out through his teeth. "Be quiet, Scholar," he said after another breath.

Wolfe could think of several retorts to that, but he recognized the trap Nic had laid for him. If he wanted to prove there was no need for concern, he had to obey the order. If he disobeyed and argued, he proved Nic right. So he kept his mouth shut and waited while Nic held him, letting scenarios play out in his mind and trying to find the one that let them go back to where they'd been before he broke.

"There are a few changes I'd like to try," Nic finally said, sounding thoughtful. "Wait there a moment."

As far as Wolfe was concerned, the order to keep his eyes shut remained in effect even though he had foolishly interrupted their game, so he had only sound to offer clues as to what Nic might be thinking. Footsteps and a soft rustling. He had to admit, he was curious.

He heard Nic return to his side, but the sudden cascade of silk down his back caught him by surprise. Soft, cool fabric over the sore skin of his upper back, draping over his shoulders and down around his legs, stopping only at his lower back, where Nic held his cuffed wrists. "I'm going to undo these and put your arms through the sleeves. I'll be fastening them again as soon as that's done. Don't even think about misbehaving."

Strange how much easier it was to take Nic's kindness when he wrapped it in stern commands. The delicate pleasure of the silk moving against his skin contrasted beautifully with the deep ache in his muscles as Nic unfastened the strap that linked the cuffs and guided Wolfe's arms into the robe's sleeves. Stiff as he was, he couldn't have gotten the robe on himself if he'd tried, but Nic asked nothing more of him than stillness and silence, and those he could give. Nic gave Wolfe's arms and shoulders a brisk rub after the robe was on, his touch deliciously muffled by the fabric. That brief relief was just enough to bring the pain into focus when Nic fastened the cuffs together again, and Wolfe had to bite down hard on a groan.

"Let it out, dear Scholar," Nic said. "No words. Just let me hear how this feels." The order given, he ran his nails down Wolfe's back, sharp pain through soft silk.

There was no hope of staying silent through that, and Wolfe let his beloved have a deep, low moan. He could still feel the tracks of Nic's nails on his skin as Nic set to work posing him again. Posture straight, shoulders squared, head turned and tilted downward. When Wolfe was in position, Nic tugged the robe down from one shoulder, the side with less prominent scars, letting it hang loose across his back to expose skin reddened by the belt and freshly striped by his nails.

Those nails came to rest at the top of the scratch marks, dug into the skin. "Hmm. Not quite right. Let me do these again. Don't move."

And there was the fire again, the crack of lightning, the pain that drowned out everything else. Wolfe thought he might have screamed. Certainly, he was floating again on the feeling. He wasn't bleeding; he would have felt the drips of it, but it had to be a close thing.

"There. That was what you needed." Nic's whisper was so quiet Wolfe barely heard it, but he heard the bite on his ear that followed it loud and clear. "Open your eyes now, my dear Scholar. I want you to watch me work." He stepped back, then, and Wolfe opened his eyes to watch his partner picking up the sketch pad and pencil he had discarded.

The image on the page was barely more than an outline: the shape of a man kneeling with his hands behind his back, looking down at an empty rectangle. There were a few feathery strokes around the head for hair, lines at the wrists where cuffs would be, and no other detail. The beauty of it took Wolfe's breath away. There was a stark elegance to the lines that he could hardly imagine as his own. He might have dismissed it as Nic's imagination, but Nic never made such exaggerations in his work, not when he was drawing from a model right before his eyes. The shape on the page was none other than Wolfe's own, and that meant there was still some beauty left in him. That meant more than he had possibly have said, and he was grateful Nic had not yet granted him permission to speak.

But there was no need to. Looking up from the line of the robe that he was sketching in around the lines of Wolfe's body, Nic looked up, smiled, the love transparent on his face as he met Wolfe's eyes. Wolfe, high on sensation and swelling with love, let himself smile in return. Nic kept him floating, not as high as he'd been from the belt but floating all the same, while the sketch took shape on the page. A firm pinch on his sore ass after the robe was outlined. Nails on his silk-covered shoulder between the additions of details to the chessboard. Fingers trailing over his hardening cock while Nic brushed back hair he'd just finished drawing to deliver a hard bite to Wolfe's neck. He'd needed this sharp-toothed pleasure, and Nic had a truly excellent bite.

The scars were the last details Nic added, just a few quick strokes of his pencil as he was shading in the skin, hardly visible next to the darker, thicker lines that represented the marks Nic had just given him. All but lost in the picture as a whole; the flowing texture of the robe obscured the worse scars scattered across his back and drew the eye upward to his face and down to the two kings held in his cuffed hands.

Looking up from the finished drawing, Nic met his gaze and smiled, putting down his pencil. "It turned out well, don't you think?"

It was more than that, too much to begin to describe through the haze of feeling. "You're good," he said, smiling back at the man he loved.

Nic took the two kings from Wolfe's hands, then wrapped his arms wrapped around him again. "As are you, my dear Scholar. I think you've earned some attention here, hmm?" He reached down to fondle Wolfe's half-hard cock through the silk of the robe.

"Yes," Wolfe breathed, leaning back against Nic's chest while his hips rose to meet his lover's hand. Or tried to, at least. His thighs were so stiff that he couldn't get far, and even that small effort was enough to make his legs shake. His hands, too, were trembling from the strain of holding their position; he'd grown so used to feeling and hiding such fine tremors that he'd hardly noticed.

Nic's hand shifted to run over Wolfe's shaking thigh. "I've worked you hard, haven't I?" He sounded quite proud of himself.

He hadn't, Wolfe thought, not nearly as hard as he'd pushed him in the past, before everything went wrong. Wolfe had spent far more time in far more strenuous positions when they'd used those rings in the ceiling and their substantial collection of rope. He should have been able to spring up from a position like this with no trouble, but he found himself grateful when Nic unfastened the cuffs and lifted him into his arms to carry him to the bathroom. The tremors in his limbs had spread through his whole body, and his muscles burned. Gods, he was getting old. At least he could still enjoy hurting like this, drifting on the intensity of sensation while Nic turned on the water to fill the tub and stripped off their clothing.

"Time for me to spoil you a bit." Nic ran his hand over the shoulder he'd just bared, down Wolfe's arm and over to his groin. "We'll loosen up these muscles, then we'll see what I feel like doing with this cock, hmm?" 

"You wanted me to fuck you," Wolfe felt compelled to point out, though his body didn't seem to be cooperating with that plan. The hand stroking his shaft felt wonderful, but he wasn't hardening like he should have, not enough to be of use for penetration.

"Maybe I've changed my mind," Nic said, climbing into the tub and pulling Wolfe in after him, into his lap, his erection pushing against Wolfe's ass. "Maybe I'd rather fuck you, here in the tub, while you're wet and slippery. See how much that sore ass can take. Or maybe I want to hold you here and see how long I can tease you before you come."

Appealing suggestions, both. But neither, apparently, enough to get him fully hard. He wiggled his shoulders against Nic's chest, hoping a bit of pain would do the trick, but that was no help, either. He was aroused, he was enjoying Nic's touch and the hot water lapping at his aching body, and his cock was failing to do the one thing he required of it. With a sigh, he said, "Do what pleases you, my Captain. You needn't concern yourself with me." Nic, at least, deserved an orgasm.

"No," Nic said, sharply dismissive. "None of that. You'll have as much pleasure as I wish to give you, and I'll hear no complaints." He kept his hand on Wolfe's cock, idly teasing with slow, lazy strokes, while he put his other hand to work massaging arms and thighs.

The water rose until it was nearly to the top of the tub before Nic shut the faucet off. Wrapped in both its warmth and Nic's embrace, Wolfe let himself relax into this softer pleasure, the easing of his aches and the gentle brush of kisses over scratched and bruised skin. He couldn't quite lose himself, but he came close enough to be mildly surprised when Nic lifted him onto his knees and turned him so that his arms draped over the side of the tub, a sudden shock of cool air on his skin after the heat of the water. Nic's erection pressed at his entrance, and he gave a groan of anticipation.

"Eager for this, are you?" Nic asked, taking hold of Wolfe's hips. A slight push forward, and he slipped in, Wolfe's relaxed body taking him easily until there was no space between them.

"Yes," Wolfe moaned at the feeling of being filled while hard hip bones ground into his beaten ass. "More, please."

Nic pulled back, agonizingly slow, until he was almost out, then pushed in again, slow but relentless. "Patience, my love," he murmured in Italian, leaning forward to kiss Wolfe's neck. "I intend to savor my victory." 

The kiss turned into a bite, light at first, then harder as Nic set a slow and even pace, the water swirling around them with every thrust. He let one hand slide around from Wolfe's hip to his cock, wrapping it around in a firm and satisfying grip. Wolfe still hadn't managed a full erection, but the touch felt good enough that he stopped caring. He was hard enough for Nic to hold onto him, and that was all he needed. After a few thrusts, Nic released Wolfe's neck from his teeth and kissed the fresh bite mark, then his lips moved to as many of the marks on Wolfe's shoulders and back as he could reach, each kiss soft even as it stirred the embers of the pain Nic had given him.

He wasn't sure that he would be able to climax until it happened. The pleasure built, growing like a tight knot within him until Nic bit him again, a sharp and possessive bite on the shoulder, passion carried through his teeth that went straight to Wolfe's cock. He cried out Nic's name as it burst through him, more intense than he could have expected, and slumped against the tub while Nic finished with slow, gentle thrusts. With a contented sigh, Nic sat back in the water and pulled Wolfe into his arms.

"Chris? Feeling all right?" Nic asked, running his thumb over one of the scratch marks he'd made.

"We have got to do this more often," Wolfe said, pausing to give his partner a quick bite on the neck. "I am terribly out of shape, as you can see."

Nic kissed his forehead. "Not so bad. And that just gives me all the more excuse to spoil you now."

They stayed in the bath until the water grew cold, lazily washing each other and enjoying the feel of wet skin. When Wolfe started to shiver, Nic drained the tub, wrapped them both in towels, and brought him to the bed, where Wolfe lay on his side, reclining against a stack of pillows, while Nic went to retrieve the rest of the wine. His eyes roamed over the walls, drawn to each of the drawings Nic had hung there over the years. There were a few sketches of the places they'd traveled, but Wolfe himself was the subject of most, and of those, only one would be appropriate to hang where guests could see. He considered them all, and managed to settle on one by the time Nic returned with two bottles of wine and a box of chocolates that he must have had hidden somewhere. Wolfe wouldn't have left them uneaten if he'd known about them. 

"That one," Wolfe said, pointing to a picture of himself on the bed wearing nothing but ropes. "You should take that one down to make room for the new one."

Nic glanced over at it and nodded. "We can do that." He set the wine and chocolate down on the nightstand and pushed the pillows out of the way to sit beside Wolfe, who took the invitation to drape himself across his lover's lap. Nic poured the wine and passed Wolfe a full glass, then lifted the lid from the box of chocolates. After a moment's thought, he selected one of the candies and brought it to Wolfe's lips.

An amaretto-soaked cherry, dipped in dark chocolate. Wolfe chewed it, chased it with a sip of wine, and gazed up his lover. "Let's not do that now, though. Now, I propose that neither of us leaves this bed until we run out of wine."

"Of course," Nic said, grinning. "You're mine for the rest of the day, after all, and I can think of no better place to enjoy you."

Wolfe snuggled into him. "I am always yours, my love."

Nic's smile softened at that. "And I am yours," he said, and leaned down to kiss him.

Wolfe could not remember the last time he had been so truly relaxed. He and Nic had each other, and there was all the rest of the day to bask in the afterglow of victory and defeat.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wolfe and Santi continue their chess games. This time, it's Santi's turn to lose, and Wolfe's to take charge. And Wolfe is taking this opportunity to show his pain-loving partner a very good time.
> 
> Still during Ink and Bone, somewhere between Chapter 1 of this fic and Oxford.

Niccolo Santi tipped his king, and Christopher Wolfe sat back in his chair, picking up his wine glass to finish the last sip while his lover stood and carried his fallen king around the table to stand before him. It had been a good game, a victory he had just barely snatched from the jaws of defeat, but the real fun of the evening was only just beginning.

"In your service, Scholar Wolfe," Nic said, bowing low. When he straightened, he held out the king with one hand, keeping the other behind his back.

Wolfe took the king and gestured for his partner to kneel. "Terms of surrender, my Captain?" he asked while Nic lowered himself to his knees with the grace of a man half his age. Pushing aside a twinge of envy, Wolfe beckoned his lover closer, allowing Nic to rest his head on his thigh while he gently ran a hand over Nic's hair. Truly, there were few sights more appealing then the man he loved looking up at him with such deferential admiration.

"You have my complete surrender, Scholar. Command me as you please." The look of complete trust on Nic's face as he spoke was at once thrilling and humbling.

Wolfe could do anything he pleased with this beautiful, obedient man. While they had only recently, cautiously began to dip their toes back into the waters of more adventurous play after Wolfe's recovery from his time in prison, he had thoroughly tested Nic's limits in their years together before that ordeal, and he knew that there was nothing Nic would not do at his command. No service he would refuse to provide, no punishment he would refuse to endure. Indeed, Nic took great pleasure in such things. Something they had not done nearly enough lately.

Well, here was an opportunity to remedy that. Nic deserved it, after all Wolfe had put him through as of late. He smiled down at his beloved and said, "I think I will take you out tonight, my prize. Go and lay out my clothes for me. You needn't change into anything nicer yourself. I have no intention of permitting you clothing once we get there."

The light in Nic's eyes as he heard those orders told Wolfe that he'd chosen the right activity for the evening. Nic rose smoothly to his feet and offered Wolfe his hand, a new gesture, but one Wolfe decided he didn't entirely mind, as it allowed him to pull Nic in for a kiss as soon as he was out of his chair. Nic's hair was still too short from his most recent haircut to grab a proper handful, but a strong grip on the back of his neck offered a similar degree of control, and he whimpered beautifully when Wolfe nibbled on his lip.

Letting go of Nic's hand, Wolfe wrapped his fingers around the bulge in his lover's trousers, drawing another whimper. "So eager," he breathed against Nic's lips, drawing back from the kiss. "But I will expect patience from you. You are not to come without my permission." He pulled Nic's head down to whisper in his ear, "And I am not in a generous mood tonight, my dear. Perhaps I shall make you beg in front of everyone in the Queen's Chamber." Nic drew in a sharp breath, and might have started begging right there, but Wolfe silenced him with a finger to his lips. "You will speak only when spoken to. I also expect that you will receive discipline with a minimum of fussing. And you will be receiving discipline tonight, my dear." Stepping back, he let a wicked grin spread across his face and watched Nic's eyes go wide. "Go on now, you have your orders. And do keep that belt of yours on. I will have need of it."

While Nic searched the closet for Wolfe's long-neglected leather trousers, Wolfe took a spare High Garda pack to their toy chest and carefully selected the items he would be using on his partner. Knowing Nic would be able to see him, he took his time, holding each item up for examination before either returning it to the chest or adding it to the pack. Nic  _wouldn't_  be able to see which objects went where. He tested floggers and paddles against his own thigh, considering what combination of impacts it would take to make Nic float, what could make him cry, even scream. The most reliable tool for that would be his single tail whip, and he held it up, running his fingers over the dark leather of it, thinking of what works of art he could create on Nic's back with it, remembering the crowds that would come to watch his work with it. He'd taught lessons on whipping, once, back when he still taught only by choice.

He put the whip back in the chest. He didn't want to try to live up to his own reputation on their first night playing in public in... gods, in over two years. The thought of going back still made his pulse quicken, and not in the way he wanted it to. It wasn't so much that the Queen's Chamber had some of the trappings of a prison - there was sufficient difference to keep his mind from wandering down the dark halls of those memories - as fear of his own weakness showing in a place where he'd been known for his strength. He wanted to be seen as the man who could command Niccolo Santi, and Nic had quite the reputation of his own.

Nic knelt respectfully beside the bed, having set out the leather trousers, boots, and leather-trimmed Scholar's robe that made up Wolfe's preferred attire for such outings. He'd added a blood-red silk shirt, set off to the side of the other clothing, as if he were uncertain about its inclusion. There were enough buttons on the front of the robe that Wolfe could, and usually did, wear it with nothing underneath, unfastening it to reveal some bare skin once they were through the Hive and down the stairs. But that was before his chest had been covered in burn scars and his stomach... his stomach was too much of a mess to even consider showing. He would hardly be the only one there with scars - it was, after all, a soldiers' establishment - but his were not battle scars to be worn with pride. The regular patterns of them made it all too apparent how he had received them.

"Excellent work, my prize," Wolfe said, leaving his packed bag to approach the bed and run his fingers over the fabric of the shirt. Delightfully soft, but not nearly as soft as Nic's hair, which he stroked in a gesture of his appreciation. Nic leaned into the touch, nuzzling at his leg. "Would you like to dress me, dear Captain?"

"Please."

"Very well, then. Get to work." He kept his voice stern, but he couldn't resist giving his lover's head another gentle pat.

"Yes, Scholar. Thank you." Nic bent to kiss Wolfe's feet. Though Wolfe had never found attention to his feet erotic in the way some did, he greatly appreciated the sight of his lover so prostrated, his powerful form brought low and humbled, his ass suggestively lifted. One kiss to each foot, then Nic stood and unbuttoned Wolfe's shirt, kissing each newly exposed inch of skin as he worked his way down.

By the time he got to the last button, Wolfe was finding his trousers uncomfortably tight. Tempting as it was to push his lover's head just a bit lower, he allowed Nic to come back up to lavish attention on his neck and shoulders while he stripped the shirt off, his nails trailing lightly over each arm as he slid them out of the sleeves while his teeth nibbled lightly, teasing.

"You can do better than that, my dear," Wolfe said when the shirt was off and Nic's teeth lingered on his shoulder. "I'll have a good bite from you now, unless you'd like me to bend you over the bed and take a cane to your ass. How embarrassing it would be to walk in with your ass already striped." Nic would, of course, enjoy himself either way. Half the fun was in seeing what he would choose.

After a moment's hesitation, Nic answered the question with his teeth, sinking them into the deliciously sensitive spot where neck met shoulder, hard enough to make Wolfe gasp.

"Good," he moaned, reaching around to grab his lover's ass and give it an encouraging squeeze. "Very good, my dear. Keep being so well behaved, and I'll find something special to do with you tonight." Already, he had ideas. So very many delicious ideas.

Nic replaced the sharp bite of his teeth with his velvety soft tongue, licking the mark he'd just made, and finished with a gentle kiss. He met Wolfe's eyes and waited for a nod of approval before retrieving the red silk shirt from the bed and holding it open to slip over Wolfe's head. It was a voluminous thing, rather piratical, flashier than what Wolfe would wear on an ordinary night out. But this was no ordinary night, and it had a more important feature, at least from the perspective of making Nic happy: it was closed at collar and cuffs not with buttons, but with laces. Laces that Nic could take his time tightening and tying at Wolfe's throat, finishing with a kiss right above the knot. Laces that Nic could kneel to tie at each wrist, covering each hand with kisses while he worked. Laces that made Wolfe feel secure as they tightened the shirt's long cuffs around his forearms, ensuring that no matter how vigorously he swung a cane or a flogger, his arms would remain covered. The left sleeve was cut a bit shorter than the right, ending just before his Library bracelet, which Nic also kissed. When the laces were tied, Nic remained on his knees, looking up again for approval.

"Yes, my dear, you are doing very well," Wolfe said, crossing his arms and giving his lover a stern look. "Did I tell you to stop working?"

That little verbal lash had exactly the desired effect, making Nic's eyes go wide with arousal while he hurried to unbutton Wolfe's trousers, granting welcome relief to his constricted erection. Nic placed a single kiss on the head of Wolfe's cock as he freed it, then turned his attention to Wolfe's hips as he slid both trousers and underwear down. A few quick kisses along one hip bone, then he moved to the other side, working slowly along the bone until he reached the words tattooed there.  _We survive_ , written in both Greek and Italian, circling the burn scar where their matching quill and gun tattoo had been. He'd wanted to have the tattoo redone, but the artist said the skin had to fully heal first, so they'd settled for the words circling his scar and Nic's tattoo. For now. Another year, and they might match again.

Nic kissed each letter of each word, his kisses forming a circle of affection to enclose the scar, and then to cover it. Wolfe permitted a few kisses on the scar before he gave Nic's head a gentle push downward. This was not a night for dwelling on past hurts. Taking the cue, Nic returned to the task of removing clothing, kissing his way down Wolfe's leg, and finishing with a kiss to each foot as he lifted them out of the discarded garments, a process repeated in reverse with the leather trousers. These, Wolfe wore without undergarments to facilitate the pleasures he intended to partake in while wearing them. Just the feel of leather on his bare ass had him excited for things to come. Nic took Wolfe's cock in hand as if to tuck it into the trousers, then looked up to him for direction.

Wolfe raised an eyebrow. "Well? Are you really going to provide such insufficient service as to put that away still hard? Clearly, we will have to review your training tonight." He supposed he could forgive Nic for looking delighted rather than chastened as he extended his tongue to lick the hard shaft in front of his face. Ah, yes, such an attentive tongue could earn a great deal of forgiveness, indeed. "Much better, dear Captain," he said, resting his hands on his lover's shoulders. He drew in a breath to steady himself, then said, sternly, "But we haven't all day. You have five minutes to satisfy me and finish dressing me. Any longer, and you will be punished."

At that, Nic looked a little disappointed. He did like taking his time when he sucked cock. But it wasn't time to let Nic have what he wanted, not yet. It was time to get dressed and out of the house before Wolfe could lose his nerve. His erection might have flagged at that thought, but Nic took him into his mouth then, and the combination of firm suction with wet heat was enough to distract him from less pleasant thoughts. Holding onto Nic's shoulders for balance, he lost himself in the depths of his lover's throat and the rapid slide of lips over shaft.

From their position beside the bed, both could, with a sideways glance, see the alarm clock on the nightstand. Wolfe had better things to think about than the time, but Nic must have kept a close eye on the clock while he worked. Nic brought Wolfe to the edge quickly, then held him there for what seemed to be an eternity before sending him tumbling over, leaving him weak-kneed and leaning hard on Nic's shoulders while Nic quickly tucked his softening cock away and laced up his trousers. Opening his eyes, Wolfe saw that fifteen seconds of the allotted time remained. Nic licked his lips as he rose from his knees and took the black robe from the bed, holding it out for Wolfe to slip into.

"Very precise obedience, my dear Captain," Wolfe said, still a little breathless. He waved Nic off when he reached to fasten the robe - no reason for that with the shirt - and pointed to the pack, closed and waiting beside the toy chest. "Straight onto your back with that, no trying to guess what I have in store for you. You'll find out soon enough."

With that, he turned and strode out the door, trusting his lover to follow.

* * *

The Hive was as busy as might be expected for a weekend, and Wolfe had to lead Nic along the back wall to avoid being drawn into conversation with any of the dozens of soldiers who might recognize him. Even staying out of the way, several officers spotted them and waved as they passed by, one man giving Wolfe a knowing wink. Wolfe couldn't remember his name, but he remembered seeing him downstairs a few times, usually restrained.

They passed through the bar and down the hall, past the washrooms to the door of a storage room guarded by a large and scowling bouncer armed with a heavy club. Ostensibly, she was there to keep drunks from drowning themselves in the wine barrels and thieves from making off with the best spirits. More importantly, though, she admitted those whose names were on her list. It wasn't the easiest list to be added to, though it was a simpler matter than joining the invitation lists of some of the more exclusive Scholars' societies. Much like the Scholars' societies, one gained entry though sponsorship by a current member in good standing, but thanks to the High Garda's more relaxed attitude toward matters of decency, it was far easier to identify such members and request sponsorship. Many officers would even make introductions for trainees who showed a certain excitement in response to restraint or pain. Troop safety, discipline, and morale were all of far greater importance than upholding the Library's frankly archaic standards of decency.

Unlike the Scholars' societies, there were neither coded invitations nor passwords; Wolfe simply gave both their names to the bouncer, and she stepped aside to allow them through. Even that was mere formality, given how well-known they both were. Nic followed him through the maze of wine barrels to the back wall, where he slid aside a shelf to reveal the steep spiral of a hidden stairway, dimly lit.

This, perhaps, was the hardest part of the evening, this passage downward into stony darkness. He focused on the portraits that hung from the walls at regular intervals, each illuminated by a small glow. First, a captain in an old style of uniform, handsome and proud and decorated with dozens of medals. Next, a woman in a black armored gown, wearing a spiked crown and holding a whip. The first Queen, who had taken the dusty cellars beneath the Hive and turned them into something more, a haven for those whose desires were met with disapproval and a proving ground for those who enjoyed a challenge. Rumor had it that she and the captain in the first portrait were one and the same, though it would never be proven unless the Library made the captain's full journal available for reading. After that, a steady procession of Queens, no two alike beyond the armored gown and the spiked crown. A few wore the trappings of war goddesses - he recognized Menhit's lion face emblazoned on one breastplate - and many carried favorite whips or canes or floggers. He was admiring the chain flogger in one portrait when the first scream echoed up from below.

A good scream. Ecstatic, even. But he still drew in a sharp breath and had to will his feet to keep moving downward.

Nic put a hand on his shoulder. "Chris. We don't have to do this."

He shrugged the hand off and kept going. "I want to," he said. There was nothing quite like defying expectations of weakness to push him forward. "I want to make you scream like that, and I want everyone down there watching when you do. I want everyone's eyes on you while I push you to your limits, my Captain. And you will give me what I want."

"Of course," Nic said. "At your service, Scholar."

Wolfe was never, ever going to tire of hearing that.

At the bottom of the stairs, Wolfe paid the attendant on duty for a key to a private playroom, an extravagant expense for a room he intended to spend minimal time in, but well worth it for the look on Nic's face alone. Half of keeping Nic satisfied lay in the building of anticipation, and Nic would spend the whole night wondering what Wolfe had planned that would require a private room.

It was also a much nicer place than the public locker room to shove Nic against a wall and get him out of his clothes. With one hand against Nic's chest to hold him in place, Wolfe unfastened the straps on the pack Nic carried and let it drop to the floor, where he kicked it away, allowing him to push Nic back against the stones. "Hold the ring," he growled, and Nic's hands went up almost by instinct to grasp the steel ring set into the wall over his head. There were a number of them along the walls, offering all manner of possibilities for restraint, but for now Wolfe wanted his lover held by nothing more than his obedience. Neither of them had been quite comfortable with having Nic bound since Wolfe's return; there were times when he might need to be freed quickly, and Wolfe's hands could be unreliable. Another advantage of bringing Nic out. Should Wolfe be unable to get Nic out of his restraints, there would be staff on hand to do the job.

While Nic stood waiting, still but for the eager panting of his breath, Wolfe carried the pack the few steps it took to cross the tiny room to the bed that occupied an entire corner. Slowly, with his back to his lover, he opened the bag and rummaged around inside. The item he sought was right at the top, but why hurry when he could drive Nic wild with anticipation? He tucked a handkerchief concealing a small bottle of alcohol into the pocket of his robe, counted breaths until he was satisfied with the delay, and then took the knife out of the bag and unsheathed it.

It was a beauty of a knife, one of the smaller and sleeker models of combat knife available to the High Garda. Perfectly balanced for throwing, it had a razor sharp edge that had been stained with Nic's blood more than once. Nic's breath caught as the knife came free, and a shiver ran through him when Wolfe rested the point, very lightly, against the collar of his shirt. "I told you, my dear," he said, "That I would not be allowing you any clothes." He slid the tip of the knife beneath the shirt collar, catching it on the fabric to lift the cloth away from his partner's skin. "Do be still now. I wouldn't want this to slip." He paused there to meet Nic's eyes, tilting his head just slightly in question. He didn't think Nic was particularly fond of this shirt, but best to be sure. They'd fought over such assumptions in younger, more reckless days.

After a quick nod, Nic froze, a statue but for his breathing, slow and even now. A model of self control, and such an effort that must have been. He didn't even flinch as Wolfe made the first cut, from collar to shoulder, the blade just above the skin.

"Oh, so very good, my Captain," Wolfe purred while he finished cutting the shirt away. "I am going to have such fun with you once I have these clothes off of you."

The trousers took a bit more effort to remove than the shirt, with their thicker fabric and tighter fit, but Wolfe had them off soon enough, and after pulling off Nic's boots and socks, he stepped back to survey the blank canvas that was his lover's body. Well, not truly blank; Nic had a gorgeous array of tattoos and more than a few battle scars on his tanned and muscular body, but no fresh marks, nothing to show how thoroughly he belonged to Wolfe tonight. That would have to change.

"Hold this for me, dear Captain?" Wolfe said, stepping in again and holding the knife up to Nic's mouth for him to take between his teeth. He made a lovely image there like that, his knuckles pale as they clenched the ring, his lips drawn back from the edge of the knife, his erection twitching and his eyes fearfully hungry. Standing to one side of his lover where his robe might ever so slightly brush that straining cock, Wolfe poured alcohol onto the handkerchief and wiped it across his partner's chest, just beneath the collarbone where there was a patch of skin bare of tattoos. Not even the movement of a breath as he did it, and a sharp gasp from his lover when he took back the knife.

He took his time cleaning the knife, lecturing as he did. "Oh yes, Captain, you've been here alone too often as of late. I'm afraid these soldiers may be forgetting who you belong to. We cannot have that, can we?"

"No, Scholar," Nic breathed, the slightest of shivers running through him. He was trying so hard to behave.

The knife clean, Wolfe leaned in for a brief kiss. "And to whom do you belong, Captain?" he asked with his lips still close enough to brush Nic's.

"Scholar Christopher Wolfe."

The sound of his name, spoken with such worshipful adoration, took his breath away. Nic would have everything he longed for tonight; Wolfe could give no less in exchange for such love and trust as Nic offered him. He kissed Nic again, claiming his mouth and then working his way down his jaw to his throat, where he gave a sharp nip before moving back to position the tip of the knife against his lover's skin. "Yes, dear Captain, you are mine, and you will wear my mark for all to see."

Nic whimpered, his eyes focused on the point, pupils wide. "Please."

Wolfe gave him a brisk slap with the flat of the blade. "Hush. Did I give you permission to speak? How embarrassing it would be to have to gag you so soon. We've hardly even begun."

Biting his lip, Nic nodded, keeping his eyes on the knife as Wolfe brought it back into position.

There had been a time, a mere handful of years ago, when Wolfe could have cut his name into his lover's skin in elegant, flowing script, when his hand was capable of such delicate control. Now, with his wrist and fingers made clumsy by old injuries, he had to settle for bolder, straighter lines. He kept the cuts shallow, just deep enough to draw blood, teasing the edges apart with the blade until the lines were easily visible.

Nic took the pain with nothing more than gritted teeth, his erection never flagging. He'd always had quite a taste for pain, and for having his strength tested.

Wolfe was starting to get hard himself at the sight of red blood on his lover's tightly controlled body, until the knife point touched the first scar, and he all but dropped it. For an instant, he saw Nic, not willingly submitting to the knife, but bound and helpless on a table, fighting back a scream. Nic wouldn't have screamed, and the thought of that sent a hot flood of shame through Wolfe's veins as he remembered his own screams as he'd been given scars to match Nic's, a punishment for Nic's efforts to find him that Nic wouldn't even see until after their reunion. He stood frozen, the knife in his hand and tears prickling at the corners of his eyes while his chest tightened as if to squeeze the breath from him.

"Nic, he gasped, the shame of defeat all but choking off his voice, "Nic, I can't."

Letting go of the ring, Nic took the knife from Wolfe's hand and pulled him into his arms. "You don't have to,  _amore mio_. There are other things we can do. You are in command. You needn't do anything that displeases you for my satisfaction."

For a moment, Wolfe could do nothing more than breathe, too conscious of his lover's blood against his cheek and the tremors in his hands.  _Gods, I could have hurt him if he hadn't taken the knife._

"I am here to serve you tonight, my dearest Christopher. Tell me how I can serve you," Nic prompted, his fingers soft in Wolfe's hair.

All the steady breaths and gentle stroking were doing nothing to stop the tremors that spread from hands to wrists to arms and the images that came unbidden with each blink of his eyes. Wolfe pushed back from his lover's embrace. "That will not be necessary. I apologize for wasting your time with this meaningless endeavor, Niccolo," he said. He took his Codex from his robe pocket. "I will summon a carriage for myself. I see no reason why you cannot remain here and enjoy your night." An empty promise, as his hand shook too much to write.

Surely Nic could see that. He put a steadying hand on Wolfe's shoulder. "If you go home, I go with you. I am yours tonight and no one else's. I would be glad simply to go out to the bar for a drink, if that would please you."

Wolfe laughed. "Yes, let us go and have a drink, me with my shaking hands and you with half my name carved into you, what a sight we will be."

"Hmm. We can fix those things," Nic said, holding the knife to his own chest. "May I? It would please me greatly to have your mark over that scar."

"Hardly my mark if you are the one to make it."

"So do it with me." Nic edged past Wolfe to lie on his back on the bed. Keeping the knife in one hand, he patted the edge of the bed beside him with his other hand. "Come sit here. Put your hand over mine. Close your eyes if you need to."

Closing his eyes would make it worse, he knew that already. But the rest... the rest he could do.  _Get over yourself and finish the mark for him. It's the least you can do after dragging him here and getting his hopes up_ , Wolfe told himself as he sat down and wrapped his hand around Nic's on the knife. His hand trembled, but Nic's superior strength kept the knife from shaking. Wolfe kept his eyes on his lover's face while their hands moved together. Nic's jaw was clenched, but his eyes had taken on a sharp focus as they followed the knife.

Their hands moved together, Nic's taking the lead, but Wolfe's growing steadier with every cut. His hand knew the shape of the letters even if he couldn't stand to look at them, couldn't bear the sight of that scar open and bleeding. But he could watch Nic's face, the intensity of his concentration and the deep pleasure within the pain in his eyes. This was making Nic feel very good, and that alone was gratifying.

More than that, it was an impressive display of skill. Nic was writing upside-down with a shaking hand over his own, and causing himself considerable pain in the process, all without pause, without sound. He could not have managed a more complete seduction if he had tried. Wolfe could feel his cock stirring with interest by the time Nic made the last cut.

"Do you want to check my work? Or should I clean myself up for you?" Nic asked, offering the knife to Wolfe.

The red along the edge looked far more alluring than it had before. Like drops of bright wine. With hands that had all but stopped shaking, Wolfe took the knife and raised it to lick the blood from it, a sight he knew Nic would appreciate. The metallic taste of it got another twitch from his cock, a slight hardening that held the promise of more. Wolfe might have been content to take no pleasure of his own from the night's activities beyond that which came from seeing his lover pleased, but it would be far more enjoyable if their pleasure was mutual.

Difficult as it was to tear his eyes from the beloved sight of Nic's face, Wolfe held his breath and looked down at Nic's chest to see his name written in lines of blood, overlaying the line of scars. Nic had guided the blade so that two scars were completely reopened to form parts of letters, an effect at once beautiful and frightening. Wolfe had to acknowledge the work was well done, even as he felt a little dizzy at the sight of it.

"They're our marks now," Nic said softly, tapping a finger just above the reopened scars.

So they were. Wolfe felt his lips turn upward, and he nodded. He thought of wrapping his partner in his arms, but it was long past time he returned to his commanding role. He owed Nic this night now more than ever. Schooling his face into a stern expression, he said, "I suppose that will do, Captain. Do clean yourself up now, I won't have you dripping all over me. I am in dire need of a drink, and you are not yet fit to be seen."

"Yes, Scholar." Nic's voice was perfectly respectful, but he grinned with delight while he dabbed at his cuts with the alcohol-soaked handkerchief.

Wolfe watched his partner out of the corner of his eye while he retrieved the next items he would need from the pack. Fully back in his role and evidently glad of it, Nic had himself cleaned up quickly enough, and he lay obediently on the bed, awaiting orders.  Wolfe found with relief that there were a good many orders he wanted to issue.

But first, there were preparations to be made. He began with the cuffs, all his own design, fur-lined black leather with gold buckles. One by one, he bucked the cuffs on, first at each ankle, then the thighs, then the wrists, and finally the biceps. He had a pocket full of leather straps to connect the cuffs, but he didn't attach any. Not yet. He left Nic's arms and legs free while he held up the next of Nic's adornments, grinning at the wide-eyed mix of fear and longing on his lover's face at the sight of the interconnected straps of black leather. "Oh yes, dear Captain, you'll be wearing this. And I will need you soft to put it on."

If anything, that threat only made Nic harder. No matter. There were ways to handle that. "I needn't remind you that I expect you to be still and quiet for punishment," Wolfe said, pulling a crop from the bag. It was one of the milder implements he had packed, perfect for use on delicate parts. Nic's delicate parts, at least. His own would not find its bite so tolerable.

He tapped the tip, lightly, against the side of Nic's erection. "But perhaps no punishment will be necessary. I will give you until the count of five to make yourself soft enough for my needs. Fail, and punishment will follow." It was, he supposed, cruel to run the leather tip of the crop up and down Nic's shaft while he spoke, but that was half the fun of this.

Nic shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut. Imagining some unarousing sight, Wolfe expected. Possibly not. This was not the sort of pain Nic usually took pleasure from, but Nic did enjoy having his limits tested. Wolfe gave his partner a soft tap on the balls. "One."

Nic drew in a sharp breath.

Wolfe tapped him again, still lightly, at the base of his shaft. "Two."

Nic's fingers clenched the bedsheets.

Wolfe tapped him again, further up the shaft, watching it remain hard under the soft touch. "Three."

Nic shivered again.

Wolfe touched the crop to the underside of his cock, just below the head. "Four."

Nic's cock looked slightly softer at that warning, but still not soft enough to get the harness around it.

Wolfe gave the head a gentle tap. "Five."

Still too hard, and Nic knew it. His whole body tensed, bracing for impact.

With a flick of his wrist, Wolfe snapped the crop down on his lover's too-rigid flesh. Three sharp blows in quick succession, just enough to achieve the desired effect. Nic took the pain well, with only the hiss of breath between his teeth betraying that he'd felt the impact. The effect on his cock was more readily visible. He didn't soften entirely, but the straps could be fastened well enough with him half-hard.

"I am sure you can see why this is necessary," Wolfe said, fastening the first strap around the base of Nic's cock, behind the balls. "You have a most disobedient cock, dear Captain, and it must be made to behave." The next strap went in front of the balls, with a short strap running between the balls to separate them. "You should be grateful, really, that I am being generous enough to let you wear this." Three straps around the shaft followed, linked by a strap across the top, each tight enough that Nic would feel them quite keenly once he hardened again. He'd placed the crop strikes well, he saw as he fastened the straps; each fell neatly between the rings of leather, spots of red alternating with bands of black. "It will make it so much easier to obey my order not to come without permission." He checked the straps, rubbing the sensitive skin around them more than was strictly necessary as he did, and was gratified to see his lover already getting harder. "I think thanks are in order."

"Thank you, Scholar Wolfe," Nic groaned.

"You are being very well behaved," Wolfe said, gently rubbing the places where the crop had struck. "You took your punishment very well, and you are displaying excellent manners. In fact, I think you have earned a reward." He licked his lips, taking a moment to appreciate the excited fear in Nic's eyes, and then leaned over to draw the exposed head of his lover's cock into his mouth.

A faint whimper escaped Nic.

"Whatever is the matter, Captain? Does this not feel good?" Wolfe flicked his tongue against Nic's cock, licking up a drop of semen from the tip.

"It does. Thank you, Scholar," Nic said, though his tone made it clear enough that he was not feeling so thankful. He knew Wolfe well enough to know this reward would only leave him frustrated.

Wolfe closed his lips around his lover again, right above the leather encircling his shaft, and swirled his tongue around until Nic's panting took on a frantic pitch. Without warning, he pulled off and sat upright, grinning at the sight of Nic straining to remain still. "Very good, my dear," he said. "I have one more decoration for that handsome body of yours, and I think that you will like wearing this one very much."

He held up Nic's nipple clamps. Gold-plated clover clamps attached by a chain. Far too harsh for Wolfe's taste, but perfectly suited to Nic's need for intensity. Nic looked about ready to break his obedient silence and beg for them, and Wolfe decided to give him the opportunity. "Well, Captain? Do you want these?" he asked while pinching his partner's nipple.

"Please," Nic groaned, "Please, Scholar, let me have the clamps."

Wolfe gave Nic's nipple a twist and looked down at him with raised eyebrows. "Are you sure you want them?"

"Yes!" The word came out as gasp, followed by a moan that turned to more begging, "Please. _Please_."

That was, Wolfe supposed, enough of a delay. He put the first clamp in place, getting a pleased sigh from Nic as it tightened on him. The other nipple was already hard and ready, and he gave it only a quick pinch before clamping it. He gave the chain a light and experimental tug, and Nic moaned, low and needy.

"Oh, thank you, Scholar."

Keeping one finger hooked around the chain, Wolfe stood. "Up now. It's time I had my drink and showed off this lovely prize of mine." Very slowly, he curled his finger closed, tightening the chain.

* * *

Reclining in a well-padded leather chair with a thin rattan cane resting across his lap, Wolfe sipped his wine and pretended not to look at his restrained lover while he acclimated himself to the noise and motion in the large basement room around him. The Hive was always an assault on the senses, and no part of it more so than the Queen's Chamber, insulated enough from the more ordinary bar above to allow its revels to reach sometimes alarming volume. Wolfe knew to brace himself for it, and thus it could be managed, even as it got under his skin in new and fascinating ways.

Along with the usual irritation of crowds, there were the anticipated troubles, and he handled those well enough. He'd adjusted to the sounds of pain and the sight of stone walls already, and he'd chosen a place well away away from the corner where several pieces of furniture intended for restraining willing victims stood out in the open. Fond as his memories of binding Nic to those objects were, there were newer, less pleasant memories of similar-looking devices that he preferred not to stir up. There were curtained alcoves along the walls, spaces allowing a degree of privacy, that he would not peer into for similar reasons.

But there were less predictable triggers. His pulse raced at the sight of a flicker of flame off to one side. Even when he turned to see that it was merely a candle, held by a soldier over her excited-looking lover, the fear persisted. Fire shouldn't be so close to flesh. He didn't know how he'd ever been able to bear to bring a candle so close to Nic, no matter how beautiful the patterns of wax on skin could be. He looked away, toward the small arena at the center of the room. Also an irritation, though a lesser one. He knew by the sound of falling leather that is was a flogging demonstration, and probably a good one at that, but it bothered him that he couldn't see the action over the heads of the crowd gathered around to watch. A small, nagging part of him couldn't stop wondering if the cries coming from the soldier on the receiving end of the beating really were from pleasure.

Thankfully, many soldiers preferred cruder methods of restraint than the unpleasant devices in the far corner, and an entire side of the room contained little more than wooden posts set with crossbars, hooks, and rings that could be used in a variety of configurations. Wolfe had Nic on his knees between two such posts, tethered to the posts by straps clipped to his thigh cuffs to keep his legs spread, with his arms bound by the cuffs on his wrists and biceps to a crossbar set just above shoulder level. So restrained, he could neither sink all the way down onto his heels nor rise to a more comfortable position, forcing him to keep the muscles in his thighs and abdomen tense to keep his weight off his arms. It made a gorgeous picture, and they had already drawn the attention of a few onlookers, though not nearly so many as the flogging demonstration.

A bearded man in leather trousers who Wolfe didn't recognize came up behind Nic and took up the studded paddle Wolfe had left hanging, along with several other implements, from the hooks on the posts. "Been giving your Scholar trouble, have you?" he asked, crouching down to give Nic's ass a firm squeeze. Interesting that he knew to use Wolfe's proper title. Their reputation proceeded them, perhaps.

Watching over the rim of his glass, Wolfe saw the excited surprise flash across Nic's face. He hadn't told Nic what to expect, hadn't put a glove on him to signal his availability for others to touch. The glove was tied, along with a set of colored flags representing the rules of engagement, to another crossbar well above Nic's head and out of his line of sight. Nic could be touched, penetrated, and disciplined with hands or with any of the tools Wolfe had provided, but he was not permitted orgasms, and any other contact would require Wolfe's verbal consent. A simple enough set of rules, one they had used regularly enough in the past, but Wolfe still had to swallow a pang of jealousy at the sight of this man groping his partner's backside. The wine helped, somewhat. Nic's needy groan helped more.

"Well, soldier?" the man asked, his thick fingers digging into Nic's shoulder as he leaned in close to Nic's ear. "What did you do to end up like this?"

Nic looked to Wolfe for permission to speak. Such excellent behavior. Wolfe rewarded him with a mild tap on the thigh with the cane, just hard enough to hear the slap. "Manners, my dear," he said in his most condescending tone. "You mustn't ignore questions from your superiors."

"Yes, sir," Nic said, letting his head fall forward in submission. "I'm sorry, sir. I disrespected my Scholar by playing terribly at chess, sir." That was the usual story they gave to justify Nic's need for punishment. Close enough to the truth.

"Can't let you get away with that now, can we?" the man said with a wink at Wolfe, raising the paddle to strike.

The paddle hovered, for a moment. A drawn-out moment of anticipation for Wolfe, whose cock throbbed at the sight, and of ignorance for Nic, who could not see it coming. And then it fell, hard enough that the sound rang out over the noise of the room, as did Nic's yelp of surprise. Such a delicious sound, that, and not an easy one to get out of him. Wolfe swatted him with the cane again, right over the place where he had struck before. Only a grunt from that, though it should have been more painful than the paddle; Nic was regaining control of himself again already. "Oh do stop fussing," he said, keeping his voice as harsh as the cane. "You've taken far harder than that without a sound. Be silent, or I shall have to gag you."

He could see Nic clenching his jaw while the paddle struck again, the tension in his body as he took the blow and the pearly drop of liquid at the tip of his cock. Good, he was enjoying himself. Wolfe took a long drink of his wine and made himself look away while the other man settled into a rhythm of hard paddling. He was, after all, pretending not to care; Nic liked it better that way. He spotted a few familiar faces as he glanced around the room.  A few of Nic's people were watching the flogging. Officers, most likely, since they had the book and cobra tattoo of the company. Three recruits Nic had recently sponsored sat together on a couch in the bar area, looking happily exhausted. A lieutenant from another company who Wolfe remembered being very good with rope kissed her partner, who hung suspended upside-down.

Wolfe missed that. There could be such relaxation in relinquishing himself to his partner and the ropes. But there was also something about it that inspired dread now. The helplessness, perhaps, or the question of where his mind would go with so much rope against his skin. A thought to pursue another time, regardless. He couldn't keep his eyes from Nic too long.

Not that he would want to. Nic suffered so very beautifully for him, drops of sweat shining on his taut muscles, the chain between his nipples swinging in time with his panting breaths, his cock straining against the straps wrapped around it. And so obediently, without so much as a whimper at the punishment he was taking. The soldier wielding the paddle showed some talent at it. He varied the speed and intensity of the blows, changing the pattern when Nic seemed to be settling into it. Nic had to work to keep his silence, and from his very comfortable chair, Wolfe had a fine view of that work.

That wasn't entirely without difficulties. He couldn't help but be aroused by the scene before him, and while his old leather trousers fit more generously than they used to, they were still tight around his erection. Naturally, since he'd expected it to take more time to get fully hard again after Nic's attentions earlier, the accursed thing was already firm and eager. Resting his glass on his knee to obstruct Nic's view of his lap, he lazily rubbed himself through the leather as he considered his options. A rather large part of him wanted to put his cock right back down his lover's throat, take his pleasure roughly from Nic's mouth while their playmate continued to spank him. Or perhaps to slip around behind and take Nic by surprise from behind. That hardly fit with the disdainful distance he was attempting to feign, though. No, better to make Nic watch while he took care of himself.

He had just hooked the cane through the chain between Nic's clamps and given a little pull to get his attention when a voice from over his shoulder interrupted. "Oh, the captain has been misbehaving again, has he?" He thought he recognized that silky voice, and a glance over his shoulder confirmed it. Sanya Kareem, captain of a company that had a friendly rivalry with Nic's, and an occasional partner in satisfying Nic's need for punishment. As usual, she wore a few scraps of laced-together fabric that might generously be called clothing, showing off the rigorous gymnasium work she did on top of her company's regular training. In one hand she held a leash attached to a pale young man on his hands and knees, striped with marks from a whip and dressed in nothing more than the harness that the leash was clipped to. So she'd found herself yet another new plaything.

"He is insufferable as always," Wolfe said, looking right into Nic's eyes as he spoke. Such a lovely color, deep brown flecked with green in this light, but still a bit too focused. Not floating yet. He drew the cane in, just slightly, increasing the tension on the chain and making Nic bite his lip. "Would you like to have a go at him?"

Sanya studied the flags tied above Nic. "I don't suppose I can talk you into making him suck my cock?"

"No." The word came out in a harsh snap, sharper than Wolfe intended as his jealousy reared its head. He took a quick sip of wine and made himself smile. "But you could make him suck  _my_  cock," he said, indicating the steel phallus that hung, already in its harness, from one of the hooks. Its dimensions matched Wolfe's own erect member, which made it an acceptable proxy for the real thing, and far more tolerable than seeing someone else's cock in Nic's mouth.

Sanya gave a snort of laughter, but she moved in and took down the dildo. "Would you like to make use of my pet? He's not fully trained, but he's good enough with his mouth."

Just the thought of that made Wolfe soften a little, but he bit back the sarcastic rejection that sprung to mind. While he wanted none of that sort of service for himself, there were uses for the boy's mouth. "Why, thank you. I've just the task for him." Releasing the tension on Nic's chain, he gave his lover's erection a light tap with the tip of the cane. Nothing  _too_  painful, but it landed at the same time as the paddle struck his ass, and that was enough to get a gasp from him. Good, his control was weakening. "The captain could use a little attention here. Not too much, now. We don't want him to come, only to wish he could. Stop if you see his balls go tight."

The harnessed boy started to move in, but Wolfe blocked his path with the cane. "Hold a moment. All of you. It's time he had these clamps off, and I'd like his full attention."

The man with the paddle stepped back. Wolfe saw him eyeing some of the other items he'd left hanging from the posts, and he caught he man's eye and gave a slight nod. Nic could use a change in the stimulation he was receiving on that end. Sanya, finished putting on the harness, gave a sharp tug on her boy's leash, yanking him back.

Wolfe leaned forward until he could get his fingers around the chain between the clamps, and spoke in a low, menacing tone as he pulled it tight. "I think you may be starting to learn, my dear. Now, you'll show me how good you can be. I expect to see your best work when you suck that cock. I expect to see your ass take everything our new friend gives, without complaint. And I am sure that I need not tell you that you do not have permission to come, and I will not entertain any begging. You have not yet earned the right to beg. You have not yet even earned your punishment. Is that understood?"

It had been far too long since he saw such excited terror on Nic's face. Far too long since he'd really pushed him like this. Since he'd heard Nic pant out, "Yes, sir," in that desperate, breathy voice.

With the chain as tight as it could go, Wolfe held his partner's gaze, waiting, challenging him to move, to make a sound, to look away. Nic didn't so much as blink.  _Perfect._  Wolfe let his grin widen. "You may scream, if you wish, my dear Captain," he said. "In fact, I would recommend it." With that, he yanked the clamps off.

Nic didn't quite scream, not that Wolfe had really expected him to. More of a yelp. That was why he had the cane in his other hand, ready to strike Nic's cock. Three stern taps along the side opposite where he'd applied the crop earlier. It was delicate work, hitting just hard enough to make Nic cry out without causing any real damage or pain that would linger overlong, and he erred on the side of hitting too lightly. His wrist remembered the motion, but he was out of practice, and this part of Nic was far too precious to risk. The third blow was still enough to get a good howl from Nic.

Somehow, that wasn't as satisfying as he remembered. The sight of Nic's face contorted with pain, the sound torn from him against his will... shades of memory stirred, and Wolfe sat back and downed the rest of his wine. He was going soft, not that he cared much, at the moment. "Go on, then. Have at him. Get a cock in that noisy mouth of his," he said, far too harshly, looking away from his slumped and panting lover to the three people awaiting their turn with him. Thank the gods he'd enlisted help for this. He needed a moment to compose himself, and it would be better if Nic didn't know that.

While the others moved in, he let his eyes drift over the onlookers who had gathered around. Nic would be happy to be drawing so many away from the flogging, Wolfe thought, even as he wrestled with the irritation at having such an audience for Nic's pain and his own failings. "I need wine," he said with a theatrical sigh, "Is there a server anywhere in this godforsaken place?"

Someone sent their submissive partner off to the bar, and Wolfe had enough presence of mind to thank them. He made himself watch the scene before him. His responsibility to Nic demanded it.

Sanya loosened her boy's leash, and he immediately went for Nic's cock, crouching low to the floor as he applied his tongue to the fresh welts there, allowing his mistress to step in over him with Wolfe's steel cock in her hand. Blocking Wolfe's view, which forced him to drag his chair around, more toward Nic's side, so that he could see Nic straining forward as far as his bonds would allow, extending his tongue toward the rounded silvery head.

Well, that was a gorgeous image. Reassuring, too, to see Nic so clearly enjoying himself, so eager for more. This was not the pain of his fears and troubling memories, but the pain of earlier, happier memories. Pain that brought Nic pleasure.

"Too bad you can't beg, isn't it?" Sanya taunted, rubbing the dildo against Nic's cheek and drawing back when he turned his head toward it. "Should have thought about that before you misbehaved." She slapped the cock against his other cheek and again moved away before he could get his mouth on it. Swinging her hips back toward the center, she held the cock just at the edge of Nic's reach. "You're lucky I'm more generous than your Scholar is, aren't you? Come and get it, Captain. Show him how good of an apology you're going to give him."

Nic stretched his neck out as far as it could go, his shoulders tight as he pulled against the leather that held him in place. The tip of his tongue just touched steel.

Someone put a glass of wine in Wolfe's hand, and he took a deep drink. Chianti, the perfect thing to savor while watching his beautiful Italian put on a show for him. And there was no doubt Nic was putting on a show, groaning softly and pushing past the pain to get his lips onto the dildo while lifting his ass for the man behind him, who was in the process of lubricating a gloved hand. But he wasn't doing it for any of the people touching him; they were all too close and too occupied to see the beauty in the firm lines of his muscles, the display of strength and devotion he'd made of his entire body, all for Wolfe's enjoyment.

Wolfe drew in one deep breath, then another. He  _would_  enjoy this, memories and jealousy be damned. Taking another sip of wine, he let his eyes drift over the name on his partner's chest and the tattoo on his hip, and then up to Nic's face to see the blissful expression there as the steel cock -  _Wolfe's cock_  - pushed slowly into his mouth. Proof that Nic was his and Nic was pleased. It irritated him that he needed such reassurances, but he could ignore that.

The bearded man had his hand slick and ready, and his other hand wrapped around Nic's hip tightly enough to make the skin blanch beneath his fingers. He and Sanya exchanged a glance, and they thrust inward in unison, three fingers into Nic's ass while the dildo slid into his throat. Nic's eyes went wide, and a moan slipped past his full mouth when Sanya's boy sucked on the head of his cock. Fully erect again, Wolfe saw. Nic always did like being completely filled.

Holding Nic by what little of his short hair she could grip, Sanya pulled back until only the head of the dildo was in Nic's mouth. "Shall I give him a lesson in cocksucking, Scholar?"

"By all means," Wolfe said. "Gods know he could use more training. Would you believe he tried to finish dressing me while I was still hard?"

"Hear that, soldier?" Sanya sneered. "You haven't been giving your Scholar good enough service. Time for you to learn to do it right."

Nic hummed an affirmative around the steel cock, and looked up at Sanya as she launched into an entirely unnecessary lesson on fellatio. Still very fun to watch while he demonstrated strokes of his tongue, occasionally flinching when the tongue on his own cock or the fingers in his ass struck a sensitive spot. When he did, Sanya redirected his attention with tugs at his hair.

She didn't, Wolfe noted, stop Nic from occasionally glancing over to meet Wolfe's eyes. Good. She knew who he really belonged to.

Wolfe could almost feel Nic's mouth on his flesh and blood cock as Nic diligently licked and sucked the steel cock, gazing at it with all the adoration he would give the real thing. He was so good at it. So beautiful. Taking another sip of wine, Wolfe rubbed his returning erection through the leather of his trousers.

Abruptly, Nic's eyes went wide and he groaned, deep and needy. The soldier behind Nic had just gotten the whole of his fist into Nic, and by the look of it, he had a lot of pressure on Nic's prostate. That would push Nic over the forbidden edge quickly enough, combined with the attention being given to his cock.

How fortunate that Sanya never objected to Wolfe correcting her playthings. Wolfe laid the cane across the boy's throat and applied gentle pressure until he crawled back out of reach of Nic's cock. Sanya spared the boy a moment of attention to reach down and pat his head. "Roll over, pet," she said. "You've been so good, I'll let you catch the drips."

The boy looked overjoyed to roll over onto his back, his open mouth right beneath Nic's cock. When the first drop of semen landed on his lip, he licked it up with a blissful hum.

Nic sounded far less pleased. He continued his dutiful work on the dildo, swallowing it to the base, but he was whimpering now, his eyes squeezed shut and his muscles tensed so much that his ass quivered as the bearded man pushed his fist deeper. His cock dripped steadily, twitching in its harness, veins pulsing against the straps and balls drawn as tight as the leather would allow. They'd pushed him to the edge of his limits, and it was a true joy to see him like that, filled and overwhelmed and giving everything he had to ignore the pleasure being given to him and obey Wolfe's orders. There were few demonstrations of devotion so great as this.

It was past time Nic had his reward. Wolfe finished his wine and stood, the cane in one hand, to lay a hand on Sanya's shoulder. "Well, he's looking much more obedient now. In the right frame of mind for his punishment, I would say. You have my thanks, Captain Kareem."

"Certainly, Scholar Wolfe. Always a pleasure to put him to work." With a sharp nod, she stepped back, tugging her boy along with her.

Taking his cue, the bearded soldier withdrew his hand. "Suppose you'll be wanting me out of the way as well?"

"Alas, I find that it is quite impossible to properly cane his ass with someone's fist in it, yes," Wolfe said, circling around. He made a point of inspecting Nic's reddened ass. "Lovely work with the paddle there. I appreciate the assistance."

"Should you wish to lend that fist to another good cause," Sanya said, hanging the dildo and harness back on their hook, "I have a good boy here who's earned a little playtime."

They departed, making their arrangements as they went. Wolfe had no further attention to spare for them, nor for the onlookers who remained. He leaned in to bite the back of Nic's neck. Reclaiming his territory, as it were. When he was satisfied with the bite mark, and with Nic's silent tolerance of the pain, he brought his lips to his lover's ear. "Can you stand?" he whispered, too quietly for anyone but Nic to hear, running his hands over Nic's cuffed arms.

Nic nodded, and Wolfe unclipped the straps that had tethered his thigh cuffs to the posts. With far more grace than Wolfe could have managed even in better days, Nic got his feet under him and pushed himself up to stand, bent at the waist, his arms still cuffed to the crossbar. Wolfe raised the bar until his partner was fully upright, then dropped to one knee to clip his ankle cuffs to the posts, keeping his legs spread. Exposed and ready for as much pain as Wolfe could give him.

But first, a warm-up, a quick tease to build anticipation, both in Nic and in their audience. Hanging the cane from a hook on the post, Wolfe took down Nic's belt. Thick, High Garda-issue leather. Nic had made him feel so good with that belt when they started their chess games again, it was only fair to return the favor. He circled around to his lover's front, tapping the belt against his palm. "Now, my dear, it is time you understood just how much trouble you are in. Everywhere this belt strikes, the cane will hit harder. I will tolerate no fussing from you. If you cannot keep yourself quiet, I will  _make_ you be quiet. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Nic said, bowing his head. He looked patient, stoic, penitent, but Wolfe could feel the excitement humming beneath the act. This was Nic's greatest test of endurance, at once an act of deep submission and a display of his considerable strength, and for all his harsh facade, Wolfe wanted nothing more than to please the man he loved.

So he put on his best scowl and snapped the belt against his lover's chest, right on a nipple still sensitive from the clamps. Nic grunted. Wolfe struck the other nipple. "Quiet, my dear. Don't embarrass yourself now."

Nic clenched his teeth.

Wolfe kept the belt in motion, raining blows down without pause on Nic's chest, then his arms, his hips, and his thighs, scolding every time Nic so much as whimpered. He was getting noisier now, his breathing heavier and grunts and moans escaping more often, especially when Wolfe moved around to apply the belt heavily to his partner's reddened backside. The soldier wielding the paddle had warmed Nic up well enough there, but Wolfe worked him over again until he got a harsh, gasping cry that told him he had his beloved right where he wanted him.

He moved back around to Nic's front, stroking his fingers over the quill and gun tattoo on Nic's hip as he went and grinning at the shiver that gentle touch sent through his partner. "I tire of your fussing, dear Captain," he murmured, trailing his nails over Nic's chest, circling the place where he'd carved his name. "Open your mouth." No reason to risk repetition of the reaction he'd had to Nic's scream earlier, not when Nic was happy enough to be gagged.

Nic lifted his head as he opened his mouth, giving Wolfe a good look at his widening pupils and the quick flash of a grin before his mouth was full of leather. There was a certain intimacy in that moment, the closeness of their bodies as he looped the belt twice around Nic's head and fastened it, the trust Nic was giving him in allowing himself to be both bound and gagged for his punishment.

Running a gentle hand through Nic's hair, Wolfe planted a soft kiss on the belt between Nic's lips, too quick for their audience to see the tenderness of it. Before he stepped back to take up the cane, he pressed a steel ball into Nic's cuffed hand. No explanation necessary; they both knew the house rules. If Nic let the ball drop, it would signal an immediate stop.

Not that Nic would do that. The cane was second only to the whip in his ranking of toys, and Wolfe had kept him waiting a very long time for it already.

He drew the cane across Nic's chest, touching it to both nipples before flicking his wrist to snap it down. One stroke above the nipples, one below, one across. The sounds of impact and of Nic's breath were deeply satisfying; the sight of the perfectly straight welts even more so. He could still get both nipples in one blow, and oh, was that ever hard for Nic to stay quiet through. But Nic did, and he kept his chin up to look Wolfe in the eye.

It always did take a lot to make Nic float. His head didn't droop again until Wolfe had finished with his arms, working from one wrist to the other with hard, sharp strikes, far harder than anything Wolfe could have enjoyed himself. Few even in the crowd of admiring soldiers gathered around them would be able to take this much pain, Wolfe suspected. He took the opportunity to show off, just a little, letting his robe billow out as he stalked around behind Nic, and raising the cane high to strike his partner's shoulder. That got a moan.

Three more to the shoulders, then ten to the thighs, hard blows with steady rhythm to push Nic into himself until the sensation consumed him. Wolfe saw it happen on the last thigh strike: a subtle shift in Nic's posture, a change in the timbre of his moan. He was floating, and Wolfe floated with him, in a way, his focus narrowing until he forgot the crowded bar around them. There was only Nic and the cane, and the painful arousal that hung between them.

Wolfe slowed his strokes on Nic's ass, letting him feel the initial sting of impact and the lingering burn of each one before drawing the cane across Nic's skin to aim the next. He didn't bother to count the blows, focusing on the pattern of welts he was making, close together and evenly spaced. Nic wouldn't be sitting comfortably for a while. He would still sit, stubborn man that he was, and his ass would burn in reminder of this night.

And that would put him in quite the amorous mood. Wolfe would be enjoying a lot of attention until those marks healed.

One final stroke, crossing diagonally over the lines on Nic's ass and making him scream into his gag, and Wolfe set the cane aside, circling back around to stand in front of Nic. Such a beautiful sight he was, striped and panting and painfully hard. With his focus on the caning broken, Wolfe was nearly as desperate for attention to his own cock, and while age had made the thing less prone to leaking, his trousers still felt damp enough to be in need of laundering.

He unfastened the belt and tossed it away. Bitten as it was, Nic would need to replace it anyway. Let it be a souvenir for one of their onlookers, for all Wolfe cared. With a hand tight on the back of Nic's neck, Wolfe kissed his lover, freeing himself from his trousers while he explored the yielding warmth of Nic's mouth, finishing with a bite to Nic's lip.

"You took your punishment well, dear Captain," he purred in Nic's ear while he lined their cocks up. "And you have earned this reward. You have my permission to come. If you can."

Nic didn't have the presence of mind to respond with words, only a desperate moan, nearly a sob. His hips strained forward to grind against Wolfe's, rubbing his leather-bound shaft against Wolfe's in a motion that nearly sent Wolfe over the edge on its own.

Wolfe pressed against him, rocking his hips. No need for hands, not now, not with the ridges of leather to rub against him, not with Nic moaning like that. He sank his teeth into Nic's shoulder as he came, right over one of the welts he'd left with the cane, and when that didn't push Nic over the edge, he reached around to dig his fingernails into Nic's striped ass.

By the sound of it, the orgasm must have been a spectacular one. Nic shuddered with the force of it, and Wolfe felt tears drip onto his shoulder.

He wiped his lover's eyes with the sleeve of his robe before pulling back to tuck his softening cock away.

* * *

After, they lay together on the bed in the private playroom, Nic sprawled out nude on his stomach while Wolfe, equally undressed and propped up by a stack of pillows, rubbed lotion into his welts. A bottle of wine sat on the ledge at the head of the bed, and a bowl of grapes rested on a pillow.

Nic, in the most effort he'd made to move since Wolfe helped him to the bed, reached for the grapes, missed, and didn't bother to lift his hand again.

"Did I push you that hard?" Wolfe asked, pulling a grape from the bowl and slipping it into Nic's mouth.

"Mmm."

"Good. I haven't lost my touch with the cane, then," he said, kneading the warm and aching flesh of his lover's rear.

An amused-sounding grunt from Nic indicated agreement, Wolfe thought. How long had it been since he exhausted Nic so thoroughly? Too long. Grinning, Wolfe lazily pressed a finger into one of the cane marks until Nic groaned. A good, happy groan. Satisfied.

Such things did wonders for Wolfe's ego.

"Over now. I need a look at those cuts." He found an unmarked spot on Nic's shoulder to grab him by, prompting him to roll onto his side. Not onto his back. Wolfe couldn't ask that of him so soon.

The cuts had scabbed over nicely, leaving Wolfe's name in red-brown lines on Nic's chest. He found no revulsion in the sight of it now, but none of the arousal he'd once have had either. Only warmth. It was far from the most elegant knife work he'd done. The first two letters were neat enough, but then the third devolved into Nic's clumsy scrawl, and it never recovered from there. It was as much Nic's work as his own, and that seemed fitting.

Gently, he smeared ointment over the lines, just to make sure there would be no infection. No sooner had he finished when Nic took his hand, holding it there beneath the letters, over his heart.

Nic's eyes opened, dark green by the light of the glows, and the look in them was the purest adoration. " _Grazie, amore mio._ "

Wolfe shifted closer, until their noses all but touched, and fed his partner another grape. "Hush," he whispered. "It was simply what you deserved."

That wasn't true, not exactly. Nic deserved all the world after all he'd done for Wolfe. But, for now, this night would have to suffice.

**Author's Note:**

> There was just too much sexual tension in that handcuff scene to read it as anything other than kinky flirting, really.
> 
> Thanks to all of my fellow kinky Scholars over on Tumblr who keep coming up with fun new headcanons and BDSMy speculation. You all are an inspiration.


End file.
